


Model Subject

by justheretoreadhannibalfics



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Meeting, Alternate Universe, Canon Divergent, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24277600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justheretoreadhannibalfics/pseuds/justheretoreadhannibalfics
Summary: Hannibal Lecter was frustrated to find no one was willing to fix his model, which held sentimental value to him. He was told there was only one man who could make the repair.---Another one shot. I don't do many of these, but I hope you all like it.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 23
Kudos: 346
Collections: Hannibal One Shots





	Model Subject

Hannibal cradled the small object in his arms as he entered the shop, the small bell ringing pleasantly overhead as he did. It was slightly cluttered, but he could tell there was an order to the little models and tools that lay on the shelves on every wall. The place smelled of wood shavings, varnish, and glue. It mingled together in the air in a not unpleasant way. 

“Hold on one second!” I voice called from further in, responding to the bell alerting them of Hannibal’s presence.

Hannibal was in no hurry, so he was content to wait a moment until he could be seen to.

It had been odd, how the others he had gone to insisted he take his model boat here to be repaired. They had almost seemed scared at the idea of touching it themselves. He hadn’t expected to find them all so superstitious of something he wasn’t aware of. The only qualm he had for bringing the model to this place was the distance. He had wanted to avoid traveling all the way to New Orleans for the small repair.

Hannibal let himself be comforted by the fact that at least the boat would be taken care of by the very person who had built it in the first place. They would surely be motivated to treat it well.

A man walked up to the front of the shop, wiping his hands on a rag tucked into his belt. His head was ducked down with his activity, and all Hannibal could see at first was his mop of dark curls as it moved toward him.

The man looked up when he was within arm’s reach, and his blue eyes fixed on Hannibal’s tie rather than his face.

“Good morning,” he said, clearly faking his enthusiastic tone, “how may I help you?”

Hannibal extended the small ship toward the man, frowning down at it as a few loose pieces clinked against the sides.

“Unfortunately, my model has been damaged. It was knocked from its place, and I was told no one would be able to fix it but you.”

The man nodded, as if that made perfect sense and looked over the boat. He reached one hand out toward it, but didn’t touch it. His fingers hovered just a breath away from the polished wood.

“May I?” he asked.

Hannibal nodded and the man took the boat delicately from his grasp. He turned it every which way, surveying the damage. Hannibal truly was sorry it had been broken at all. It had been a gift from his uncle a few years back, and he had liked it. It was one of the most intricate and accurate model boats he had ever seen. Unfortunately, one of his patients became violent and knocked it off in the ensuing scuffle.

“My name’s Will,” the man said, still looking over the boat, “and I’m sure someone else  _ could _ have fixed it, but I’m guessing they would hardly touch it when they knew where it was from.”

Hannibal was very curious, now. The man seemed aware that a sort of taboo followed his creations, but he wasn’t concerned. If anything, he sounded amused. There was a spark of something mischievous in his bright eyes.

“Yes. I was somewhat exasperated that I could not find anyone willing to try.”

Will nodded again, moving toward a desk that held tools and bottles of glue. It had the same, organized type of clutter that the rest of the store displayed. The things seemed scattered, but were likely exactly where Will would instinctively reach for them when they were needed.

“Well, at least you managed to come here. I’m always sad when people give up and throw them away. I’d much rather be able to fix them.”

Hannibal followed Will, watching his movements. He moved around the desk and shelves like he had the layout of his store memorized, which he very well might have. He didn’t even have to watch where he put his feet.

“I am also glad to have been able to come. It was a gift, and holds sentimental value for me. I would be greatly disappointed to not be able to have it repaired,” he said.

Will set the ship on the desk and went about organizing his tools and pulling out a small notepad.

“I remember. Older guy with grey hair. He was broad shouldered, and slightly overweight. He had a woman who spoke Japanese with him, and they both had a hard time speaking English,” Will said, “but they were both very polite and impressed by the model.”

Hannibal smiled. He remembered the specific customer who had bought this model, and it was his uncle Robertas, here with Lady Murasaki. Perhaps they were a very memorable pair for the area. 

“Where you from?” Will asked, writing a few things down.

Hannibal had people ask him that often, no matter where he went. His accent caught the attention of anyone in the states. Very few were too polite to ask.

“Lithuania,” he said.

Will shook his head.

“Obviously. I meant where do you live now? You didn’t fly all the way here from Lithuania just for the boat. You must live nearer than that.”

That was surprising. Hannibal had expected him to be wondering where the accent was from, not actually curious about where he currently lived. 

“Baltimore, Maryland,” he answered.

Will nodded, glancing at the boat and writing another note down.

“That sounds more like it. Still a bit of a trip. I hope you enjoy your stay in New Orleans. I should have this done by this time tomorrow. Here’s a list of what I’m going to do and the prices,” he said, tearing off the top page of notes and handing it to Hannibal, “If you want me to _not_ do something, let me know and I’ll take it off the bill. Let me know if you need anything else, too.”

Hannibal looked over the page, impressed by the man. He was clearly not trying to swindle Hannibal in any way. Each step of the repair was written out with an estimated price, and the prices were fairly low for what Hannibal had been expecting. 

“Everything seems to be in order,” Hannibal agreed, “but the cost seems a bit generous for me. I expected you to have higher prices, being the only person in the country who can repair it.”

Will grinned, sitting at the desk and carefully moving the boat to look at it better. He rolled up the sleeves of his plaid shirt and wet his lips as he looked over the boat.

“I don’t often take advantage,” he said simply, “and you already came all this way to find me. It wouldn’t be very smart of me to try and cheat a customer like you.”

Hannibal tipped his head.

“Customer like me?” he asked.

Will’s smile tipped so it was lopsided, and he turned the boat around to show Hannibal something.

“There’s still some blood on this bit,” he said, pointing the tiny stain out, “but don’t worry. I don’t think anyone else would have noticed. I just hope whoever knocked this off the shelf got what was coming to him. I’m not very forgiving when it comes to destroying my work.”

Hannibal was speechless. He watched in stunned silence as Will turned the boat back around and carefully cleaned the blood off. He threw the small cloth into a trash bin next to the desk and went about preparing the boat to be fixed.

After a moment, Will glanced up and met Hannibal’s eyes for the first time.

“For a killer, you seem oddly unsure of what to do. I expected more from the Chesapeake Ripper,” Will said.

Hannibal took a deep breath and steeled himself.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said, feeling cliche for saying it. 

Will smirked.

“Of course you don’t. Have a seat, and I’ll explain why the others won’t fix this model for you,” he said, waving to a chair that was miraculously free of clutter.

Hannibal knew he had options. He didn’t feel trapped. He was too curious to actually do anything other than sit in the offered chair and wait for this strange man to continue.

“As you know, I am the one who made this ship to begin with,” Will began, “I am fairly proud when it comes to my craft, and you will be hard pressed to find anyone as good as me. Honestly, I don’t have anything against having others repair my boats. The reason hardly anyone will, is the mortality rate.”

Will’s deft hands were repositioning the mast and applying glue. He held it still until it was dry enough to let go.

“I don’t go around killing people who fix my models,” Will explained, “but when someone changes one of my designs, or they do a poor job on a repair, there’s a fairly high chance of something happening to them. Accidents, mostly, and sometimes I don’t actually have to get involved. The rumors do half the job for me, and people who expect to have an accident, just do. If people just knew the craft, no one would have to worry.”

Hannibal wasn’t sure why Will was telling him all this, but he was mesmerized by the small, delicate movements of his hands. Will’s hands didn’t look like those of an artist. They looked like the hands of someone who did manual labor, lifting heavy machinery or fixing cars. The man himself didn’t seem the type to be so intricately talented. Hannibal had to admit he _was_ probably the best at what he was doing.

“I know you don’t know why I would tell a perfect stranger any of this,” Will continued, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, “and the truth is I normally wouldn’t. It’s just not every day one meets another person so much like themselves.”

Hannibal was completely enchanted by the man. He was unusual in every way, and Hannibal wanted to know everything.

“You don’t think I will immediately tell the police what I have found out?” Hannibal asked.

Will shrugged, pulling on one of the strings of the ship to get it back into position with the precision of a master.

“I know people in the FBI, and I’m pretty well trusted by the guys in the local PD too, so go for it. I’ll just tell them what I know if you do,” he said, then glanced up to Hannibal with a grin, “I’ve got a talent for the monsters.”

Hannibal believed it.

“So, what do you expect us to do, going forward? Surely you did not just expect us to part ways as strangers,” Hannibal said.

Will looked back down to the ship, still smiling. It was surprising to see anyone able to multitask so well when one of the tasks required so much attention. He was doing a marvelous job at not only repairing the ship, but also conversing with Hannibal so smoothly.

“Well, if you’re going to be in town for a few days, I know some good places to eat. I expect you can handle spicy food?”

Hannibal knew that was a challenge. He wasn’t sure he wanted to commit to the ordeal of having his tongue burned by the excess of spices, but he also knew he could handle it. Despite himself, he wanted to impress this man.

“I enjoy all types of food,” he said by way of an answer, “and yes. I am staying for a few days. I thought it a good opportunity to experience the area.”

Will laughed lightly, and brushed a bit of hair away from his brow.

“Alright. Dinner tomorrow, my treat. After you come by for your boat. We’ll see just how much spice you can handle.”


End file.
